


A Soul's Contemplation

by AceAsSpace



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Chara remembering, Chara's rlly fucked up, Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Knives, Nonbinary Character, Past Child Abuse, Souls, Starvation, more tags will be added, poor kid, the six before frisk, violent fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceAsSpace/pseuds/AceAsSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The soul tries to forget, and almost succeeds sometimes. They remember only the cruelty. The cruelty that makes their mission clear. To kill everything. All these creatures who had pretended to love them, every human they could get near. Everyone deserved to die. What kind of world produces people like that? One that needs destroyed.</p>
<p>Chara's soul must have been there for some time, how was that time spent and why didn't they possess the other six before Frisk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Purple Wordsmith

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up till 7 in the morning, wrote this bit, and decided it was good. Hell if you think it's good, I'll probs continue

There's a soul that spends quite a lot of time around the place they once fell. Somewhere in the depths of it, the soul thinks it's nice to have a cushion there now in case another throws themselves off. The fall's too short to kill unless you go head first.

That broken leg had been a bitch.

Briefly, the soul wonders if, had they been actually nourished, would they have hurt themselves in the fall. But, to be fair, if they had been actually nourished that likely meant they would have had parents who gave two shits and never would have climbed that mountain in the first place.

But the soul had gained parents who cared deeply, but they couldn't fix it.

_"You're so thin, my child! Here have another slice of pie."_ They were full, fuller than they had ever been.

_"Young one, it appears your brother has outgrown you! I do wonder when you'll follow suit?"_ They couldn't help it.

_"Hey, where'd those bruises come from? I thought you landed on your leg?"_   They brushed it off, but Asriel gave them a suspicious look for a long time.

You don't get hand shaped bruises from falling and Asriel knew that. But then, you're not supposed to be breathing after taking a flying leap into a bottomless pit.

What a coincidence.

The soul tries to forget, and almost succeeds sometimes. They remember only the cruelty. The cruelty that makes their mission clear. To kill everything. All these creatures who had pretended to love them, every human they could get near. Everyone deserved to die. What kind of world produces people like that? One that needs destroyed.

Fists and cheap diamond rings that left cuts across their face, when they had had a face.

The constant crying for food, but bad kids don't get fed.

Bad kids learn their fucking place.

Don't be such a bitch to your mother and maybe you'll get dinner this week.

The soul is jolted from memories when a girl just a little older than they had been falls.

She wears a thick pair of smudged glasses that have now broken at the bridge. Shame. Her purple sweater is inappropriate for the sweltering weather out there. Hoping to find out her reasons, the soul latches.

Chara takes a real breath for the first time in ages, the possession has worked!

Yes, this girl was a writer. Pen and paper her food and water; but the blood she draws from her wrists with that dainty razorblade her air. Someone who knew how to use a blade, this could- Chara's consciousness is ejected suddenly as the girl starts to weep.

She's not dead, and it's killing her to be alive, it seems. Though the soul could faintly remember this feeling, this writer was far too emotional for an easy attachment.

It drifts around the girl for a time until Toriel comes to collect her just as she did for them years ago.

It is quite a few months before the girl asks to leave, to see what lies beyond, and Toriel reluctantly accepts.

Word gets to the ruins about a week later of her gruesome demise; skewered on some Royal Guard nobody's spear.

Rumor has it the rookie's getting a promotion.

"At least she got what she wanted." The soul thinks.

Everyone down here wants to die, that sliced-up wordsmith was just lucky enough to know it.


	2. Feeling Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this under an hour at like 2 in the morning ayyyyy

Ten years pass. Or was it one? Or was it one hundred? The soul's perception of time fades as do the Underground's memories of human children.

Existing in peaceful non-existence, it moves to the next room. There are no flowers here, only a small patch of grass. The Ruins don't have much scenery, but they are a nice place to have been buried with all things considered.

That coffin had been just as comfortable as it looked.

It moves around the ruins, noting the small monsters that would turn to dust so easy under their blade _if only Toriel had laid it with them._

It was something they couldn't be talked out of. And they had tried.

 _"This is a dangerous tool, my child. You could hurt someone with this! Or worse, yourself."_ If you only knew.

 _"Why keep such a thing? A dagger cannot possibly aid you in this place. You have no reason to fear for your safety in our home."_ There's always a reason. Don't be stupid.

 _"Y'know, there are easier ways to tell me to stop. You don't have to start swinging that thing aro- Are you okay, Chara?"_ I'm fine I'm fine I'M FINE DON'T TOUCH ME I'M FINE.

Why had she left the one thing they had from their home? She didn't even bring the locket, not that it meant much, but she thought it did.

No.

What good would the dagger be even farther underground anyway? This is no time for sentimentality. The soul isn't dead, It's body is.

There's still a cause. A crusade.

There is poison in this world, a poison that needs to be gutted and bled out like a fat hog.

The analogy brings a twisted sort of peace and the soul finds comfort in it.

A scream, and a thud.

_Another chance._

It blinks out, and arrives back at its starting point.

This is just pathetic.

Some kind of... dancer... hits the ground and falls unconscious.

The ballerina breathes, but shallowly, perhaps injured.

All too easy.

Unconscious and without foreign emotions to push it away, the soul latches.

Chara breathes in once again, but it's wrong. Painful, punctured. A broken rib. Too fragile bones. Don't eat Don't eat you have to stay thin for the recital. 280 more crunches to go. It seems so easy to forget how your stomach grumbles when it's full of butterflies. Nervous, faint. Ate a peanut butter sandwich before rehearsal. Instructor screamed. No, No, no... This.. This pain, the fragility and torment. The H U N G E R.

The soul detaches before they can experience a panic attack.

Never again. It would rather wait billions of years than experience THAT again.

Toriel's healing magic can only do so much for the dancer.

They slip out of The Ruins by night, hoping to find a hospital or an exit to lead to the hospital.

They don't get far.

Hopefulness begins to fill the Underground: Two human souls maybe our king really WILL save us!

Despair fills the Ruins, however, and Toriel's woeful cries are heard by all.

"I've lost another one."


End file.
